Canone Inverso
stay with me, for the music's sake
--
story about us. | book or film. |
Отредактировано Seamus McLagen (2014-03-02 12:34:59)
canone inverso;
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Поделиться12014-03-02 12:32:03
Поделиться22014-03-02 12:47:58
Foals - Late Night
Oh I hoped that you were somebody, someone I could count
To pull me to my feet again when I was in doubt
Blackrock Private Boys School, Blackrock (Ireland), winter, just before the six o'clock supper
Thunderstorms turned the sky into a grey homogeneous mass that evening. Windows were shaking so that you can felt this power of nature on your own skin. Decorative yard was absorbed by darkness of storm and you could see nothing there even if you tried to.
I remember, old woman told me a story that one day Darkness became Light. The World will not know what is good and what is bad anymore. Everything becomes equal. People lost their power of souls.
They don't believe to each other. They believe in top-lists. That was the story by my neighbor old-lady Mrs Charlson. After that mom told me another story - angels in white coats took Mrs Charlson to their white house with soft walls. I haven't seen this old lady after this story. Never.
You always remember horrible stories from your life when you are alone in the dark. In this room with thin walls and no electricity I was 7 and totally alone. Hello, here are for you: Jake Rory and his minute of the last confidence-n-frustration.
I close my eyes. I hear the wild wind and screaming of falling down raindrops below the window. I am out of time. I don't need stories from people who are always walking away anymore.
8 years later, Blackrock Private Boys College, Blackrock (Ireland), summer, 9:00 a.m.
– Tradition is one of the pillars upon which the College is built. Every student should remember, – Mr Richardson is talking about strange things. Mr Richardson is taking his pointer. Mr Richardson is beating Mr Kale with a pointer. Everyone is happy. Except Mr Kale himself. – This postulate.
Every student should remember this postulate, of course. It is not a secret that generally teachers hate their students. But I didn't know that you can give the first reason for hate in the first lesson in your life - silly Uria Kale is a mater of troubles.
Green grass is calling outside. But you are just sitting in the lesson of History of Blackrock and listening to this strange facts, which you could quickly forget after all. I spent all my childhood in the walls of Blackrock Catholic Private Boys School but I do not know anything about this area. But I never listened to our lectors. I was sleeping or drawing during the lessons of History, during the lessons of Maths, even during the lessons of English grammar. I couldn't see the reason why I should listen about this place now. But I was smarter than beaten Uria, that's why I am sitting with clever face in the auditory and trying not to laugh.
"Think of it! And these guys would be my partners for few years ahead!" – I thought when lesson was over. They started to collect their things before the teacher allowed them to do it. Only me and one guy were sitting on places without unnecessary movements. He sat on the next row behind me.
Our funny low-grow Mr Richardson menacingly knocked on the table by his pointer and showed at us.
– Why can't you all behave yourself like these two gentlemen?
His ludicrous Scottish accent made few pupil laugh but laughter subsided after few sharp blows. I smiled.
– What is your name, young people? – he asked while all of my classmates stopped their movements.
That was the moment of the first triumph above them all. And I felt it was the first second of showing who's boss. Showing who's the number one. I had steeled myself and decided to answer first. I opened my mouth but, instead of the sound of my name, my ears heard inarticulate hum of two voices. I could hear the ending of my surname mixed up with someone else's name. We have not even looked at each other. I took the initiative in a hanging silence.
– Jake Rory, graduate of Blackrock Private Boys School, sir.
Поделиться32014-03-02 12:52:36
Ludovico Einaudi – Farewell To The PastYou will be better than I am, my son.
You will be doing everything right.
You're not like your father, you're not like your mother
You will fight, you will hold the world tight (c)
They always said to me, that's no good to be alone, but they always wanted to take me somewhere, where other guys "like me" could become the cara [ir. - friends] of mine. They had never seen something special in me, and it was the reason of them thinking about their son in the usual way, like about an ordinary guy. But I had never been a simplicity, I always refused to be someone's replica, or just repeated a pattern of others' behaviour. I have never seen the sense to be like others. Even when my family had to move again - to be more exact, to Blackrock - and I found myself being a student of Catholic College. The most appropriate place to become "like others". They were my parents.
Sometimes I thought, that my father deliberately asked about the new place of working. He just wanted his son to become an Irish man, a citizen, who could be able to obey the law and the tradition. He couldn't understand, what I was. He never tried to.
You could think, that it was pretty pretentious for the guy of my ages to think about being special. But I have never pronounced I was. Just not like others. For example, I would never like to be an amadán [ir. - fool, stupid boy]: to discuss girls in the obscene way, to be angry at my teacher (although he was an equitable one and punished only because of forcible argument), to behave myself like a man of the common people. Everyone should have had a honour, in my point of view. Everyone should have respected themselves. Not some Catholic postulates, or God, or their relatives. Themselves. And the way of me respecting myself was denying to communicate with people, who I didn't understand.
I didn't hate the school, I just did not value their traditions and the wont to dictate their will. But what I liked was History. As far as I remembered, I had always been eager to The History, no matter the history of which place or which person it was. I would never understand maths, or I would never have an opportunity to be a scientist. But I would always love the past of this world. All the drastic alterations, everything magnificent, already happened! And there was nothing in the world, what we could change. And if I couldn't change something, I wanted to know about it, at least.
That's why I had always paid attention to the history teachers' words, and always played a good student during their lessons. What I am doing alias has secondary importance.
But there were some moments, which I did not prefer. For example, talking about the rules of this school and the postulates of Catholic religion. Mr.Richardson didn't agree with me, and the day of some guy wasn't successful. At least, after the hit. I had never gotten a punishment from this teacher, but I could imagine, how painful it was (other lessons are still there).
– Why can't you all behave yourself like these two gentlemen?
Another guy was sitting right in front of me, and I could see only his back. But it didn't matter to me at that moment. I felt superiority, and it felt right. It was something from the darkest past, from the memories, which were covered with the dust. My lips bent into the mischievous smirk, and I nodded at the teacher. The guy started talking, and I just decided not to mix my own name with someone's else. It should have sounded in the convincing way. It should have been remembered by all of them.
– Seamus Connolly, sir.
`If you're not the first at the beginning, it doesn't mean, that you won't be the first later. The most honourable people must appear in the end`.
Поделиться42014-03-02 13:00:23
Jan A.P. Kaczmarek – Memories Of Better Times
That's how I met Seamus Connolly. I understood from the first sound of his voice that he is not a dúr [ir. stupid] one. I turned about by insensible degrees and smirked. It would be pertinently to say that I am glad to know the name of such "polite young man". But I was just dumbfounded. No remarkable things about him. But it was like I saw this young man before and I knew his challenging nature as well as mine.
– Take the example of your comrades, ungrateful personalities, – Mr. Richardson torn between anger about behaviour of our classmates and pride for such clever students from Catholic schools. Finally he decided to end this opera. That's why he nodded his head and exhaled: – The Lesson is over, students.
Windows, closed for a slide show on an old projector, were open and bright summer sun solemnly filled the room. I squinted and stood up only when I heard that chair creaked behind my back. Seamus Connolly. I bet he is Irish to the backbone. It makes big sense here in Blackrock. I think he was kissed by St. Patrick - I can feel he is a lucky one and he doesn't know how to give up.
I knew it forward before I looked at him again at the hall after Mr. Richardson's lesson. Smug, disaffected, but I was being attracted to his cold in some way. These old walls knew a lot of strange stories. But that day they lost one interesting detail. And I lost my fear of getting new knowledge. Or an old one which I just forgot.
I was lost in the crowd of my classmates and when the crowd began to disappear I haven't seen this «polite one».
I have one habbit - I like to find something new in ordinary things. Like names, favourite colours or names of pets. So I divided name of this polite classmate into two parts. Sea – Muse.
«Interesting,» – I noticed with admiration and envy, going through the regular long hall to the library that day. I didn't know why but this little meeting shocked me more than even books by J. London. Sea. Muse. Strange phrases from English language, what can I say?
Отредактировано Ocean Quinn (2014-03-02 13:01:56)
Поделиться52014-03-02 13:05:22
Ferenc Liszt – La chapelle de Guillaume Tell
Apparently, Mr. Richardson was really glad to see, that he would have, at least, two polite students during his lessons. It was enough to me. All the students were staring at me and another guy, and I could swear, I already had a few enemies. I could swear, the school would see a lot of conflicts soon, and I would take the main part there. But I did not care about it. I was used to have a fight, I was used to protect my point of view, the honour of mine. I was grown to be like that, I had an upbringing.
I did not pay attention to them though, I nodded to another guy. From my side, I could define it like a sign of respect. If I looked for a circle of friends, it would be possible to make the aqcuaintance of him. But the situation did not allow me to behave in this way. That's why I just collected my conspects of lecture, and headed towards the library.
It was a dereliction not to go there before, but all the official things, which were related with the beginning of studying here, was a good reason. Now I was going to fill the gap. If I had to live here, I needed to examine their choice of books.
Of course, I would like to discource on the topic now, nevertheless the incident in the classroom reverted to my head. I was thinking about that guy. To be rational, there were only two variants of the sequence of events. Bad one: the guy is just a pompous and meaningless, who likes behaving himself in an affected manner. Good one: he is the one, who knows something about a public conduct, and... Good, I felt something familiar in his voice, being honest, the sound of my own past. The grandfather always told about the meeting of the souls, as like they could see each other before their owners even met. I always had a suspicion about the exact story, although I had never prejudiced aganist The Eldest Connolly's opinion. It was incontestable for me.
- Maidin mhaith [ir. - Good morning] , madam. Might you have any French History books? I would like to read about the period of French Revolution? And today's The Irish Times, please.
Said I, smiling in the most courteous manner and leaving my bag onto the table.
Отредактировано Seamus McLagen (2014-03-02 13:29:03)
Поделиться62014-03-02 14:34:10
Gustavo Santaolalla – Vanishing Grace
Boredom replaced pride. I went beneath the dull orange hall lamps in a dark part of the annexe with restless thoughts about my not-first meeting with that newcomer. I noticed only one thing about him - he should be narcissistic one and there is no point to deny it. Who can have such a snooty look as he has? No one can even afford this type of behaviour. Maybe he is from a rich family from Dublin. That cleared it up, then. I'd missed some details about him by a good ten minutes. I could try to find out something about him from Mr. Richardson, but I don't think he knew something about his new headache army. There is an incredible amount of no-go boys around him. So he can't be interested in biography of everyone. Seems like it's only my business now.
"Oh, mom, you wanted me to study here, yes, I will, but later..." – I thought with a smirk and passed through the last corridor.
There is no control now here in my kingdom, mom. Who knew it could happen with a good boy from very prosperous family-house? When you are just a little cub, surrounded by rules of Catholic Church and strict monks, you can't have any revolutionary ideas and thoughts. If only because you're the only one who wanted to implement them in life. Now we have control as well. But not for a long time. You just must pretend that you are a homely boy who would never undermine the authority of the church. The first point made. The second point is being made now as well.
Only homely kind man-children go to the library. And only homely kind man-children read clever books abut theory of spiritual enlightenment, which based on musical culture. Piano, church choir, motets... I preferred collection of our recently deceased neighbor. Especially I remember the name of one band which drived me really mad about prohibited things. It called 'The Who'. They were formed few years ago (1964 or 1965, something like that). My inspiration in a pure sort was their lead singer, Roger Daltrey. I have never seen something like that before. Unfortunately it seems like I will never - last time, when I was on holidays in mom's house, she found me in the attic, listening to the vinyl records of 'My Generation'. I have never seen her so furious before... So that's the story how I lost 'My Generation'...
And now I am again here, in a boring walls with an incense smell. No TV, no father's musical turntable. I really need a sound here. Quality sound of my generation. Unfortunately the only one sound I could make was the sound of creaking library's door. I entered to the reading-room and stopped, raising my eyebrows in surprise...
– ...and today's The Irish Times, please.
"The Irish Times? Totally Irish one," – I diagnosed and straightened curly hair strand with my finger. I cautiously stood beside Seamus, creating a small queue at the checkpoint. Slender Lady disappeared behind the dark shelves and appeared with two large books in a second.
– No 'The Irish Times' today, young man, – she giggled. – Try it later, maybe evening can be more productive. Here are 'French History: The emergence and development"... And... Sorry, mister, it's my first days, I am not sure I could help you with books about revolution on the whole...
– If you have "Tale of two cities" by Charles Dickens, for example, it would be quite interesting for him and after he can come back to you for something more serious about this period of time, something what had a connection with history in a scientific way, – I tried to insert my word and smirked.
Отредактировано Ocean Quinn (2014-03-02 14:37:52)
Поделиться72014-03-02 15:43:55
Ludovico Einaudi - Walk
The rays of sun were grazing the table, the bookshelves, the face of young woman, who couldn't be a competent librarian, even if she really would like to. Looking at her eyes, I looked for the glimpse of intellection, for something non-mechanic. The librarian of my former school was a middle-aged woman, who always could give an advice about every topic, and every book. For me she always had an "Irish Times", the cup of coffee [a rare drink in Ireland, but she always suggested it] and a new book for the self-education. She had relatives in France, and her English language sounded a little bit funny. She was the only one woman in my life, who could approach the word 'mother'. She hadn't got any children, but found a distraction in me and her nephews. One of them was a student of Sorbonna Univercity, the cleverest and the most inspirable person I have ever met. He had known everything about his country and its history. He became a teacher of mine. Just one thing, which still disappointed me – the English Channel. The distance.
I was understanding, that the life isn't here, in Ireland. Ireland already had its bellicose period, had everything grand. Without any doubts, children of the Country always were national warriors, and the revolution here would be a illustious deed. One thing – the structure of the government needn't any changes. Immigration already stopped being a dream, it could mean only that people had been satisfied. But the youth disturbed me. I had a desire to fight against anything, it was inside my blood, inside my conscience. That's why the call of Revolution echoed in my soul.
– Here are 'French History: The emergence and development"... And... Sorry, mister, it's my first days, I am not sure I could help you with books about revolution on the whole...
Who am I, in her opinion? A little boy?! – my brows furrowed and I tilted my head. I was ready to respond, but...
– If you have "Tale of two cities" by Charles Dickens, for example, it would be quite interesting for him and after he can come back to you for something more serious about this period of time, something what had a connection with history in a scientific way.
The sound of someone's voice, which I already heard today, interfered in the conversation. My body tensed up, and the ideal bearing of mine became a string.
– Le meilleur est de te taire! [fr. - You'd better shut up!] – the hissing in French wasn't even noticed by me. It was a reflexive movement. I turned around to the guy, flipping the bangs of the hair from the face, and said louder. – Let me choose by myself, Rory, what I need to read. Deal, monsenior?
Explosion inside had never been a good sign, I almost hated those moments. When someone considered me like a dúr one, a resistance of insert feelings appeared. After that I addresed to the librarian again.
– Pierre Gaxotte "La rèvolution française" and Grannier de Cassagnac, "Des causes de la Rèvolution Française". I have a hope, that your school is not for people, who couldn't understand those books, and you have it, mademoiselle. As well I need "Les Miserables", Victor Hugo.
I already hated the place, where I should have studied.
Поделиться82014-03-02 16:29:55
David Arnold & Michael Price – The Game Is On
I debated popping back to the hall and waiting for this jittery St. Patrick to leave, but the only one thought made me laugh and I sighed. I really didn't want to drag this guy out and I had no thought about showdown with Seamus Connolly. I really was short of luck today. There was no point for escape. I squinted at him, ready to say something unpleasant in response to rudeness.
'Mum'll kill me if she ever finds out,' I murmured, making step backwards. I have a time to think up a good cover story of incident but there is no incident yet! My mess.
Creating of the answer was going to take longer than I expected. I was starring at Seamus as he ran away from mental hospital. Library-lady disappeared from my sight with shelves, full of old manuscripts, with the dull light of chandeliers, with all the world and only Connolly took my attention. If he intentionally wanted do that, he is lucky one today then.
– You managed to evoke a sense of admiration at me for a few seconds, congratulations, – I retorted with a sweet smile, when that empty-headed damsel went away to deliver the order of this wisenheimer. – Isn't it boring to be so clever, Connolly? Oh, come on, I don't need your answer.
At last, he can be a dangerous rival. That's why I should be quite about his habits, arrogance, too disheveled appearance and insolent behavior. It's only the first day. I smiled at him, trying to amend our talk:
– I am the same nerd as you are, don't be so catty, revolutionist.
Поделиться92014-03-02 22:28:12
Mozart L'Opera Rock La Troupe – Le Bien Qui Fait Mal
Why did all the guys assume, that they had a right to say something about others' infatuations? Totally сorrect, I consider myself like a current drug addict, and the addiction of mine is Revolution. Some guys made a fun of me, that I was bitten by Daniel Con Bendit. Only God knew, how they got an information about the guy, whose name was known only in the revolutionery circles of Paris' student community... It might have been my fault, because sometimes I was too inside the topic. Even talked to myself at the night, as they tried to convince me.
The guy, who filled the consciousness of mine a few minutes earlier, now aroused the wrath. As Paul said, I should have suppressed my emotions, being more exact, I should have saved them for a forthcoming fight. Revolution would need the anger later. We needed just to have a patience. I let myself to settle down, and exhaled.
– I am not a nerd. I just keen interest in the History of France. You must be mistaken, Jake.
Slightly sinister beginning for the acquaintance, in my opinion, but nobody said, we would have a closer relationship. I wouldn't like to make friends here, because of my future departure to Paris. Although the guy acquired an interest, and it hadn't happened to me since the commencement of my correspondence with French young revolutionists.
– Anyway, what's of interest of you?
Leaning to the librarian's desk, I casted a glare at him.
Отредактировано Seamus McLagen (2014-03-02 22:35:00)
Страница: 1
